


The Archduke's Discovery

by queenbookwench



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Kid Fic, Pre-Canon, discussions of canon abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:02:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28148031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenbookwench/pseuds/queenbookwench
Summary: Prince Nemolis goes on a journey, and learns a bit more than he wanted to know.
Relationships: Maia Drazhar & Nemolis Drazhar
Comments: 46
Kudos: 145
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Archduke's Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [biichan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biichan/gifts).



> Thanks so much to my recipient, biichan, because your wonderful prompt helped me get my feet wet in a fandom I've admired and lurked in for years. 
> 
> Many thanks also to Beatrice_Otter, who gave me great feedback on an early draft--all mistakes are 100% mine.
> 
> Added thanks to Likeadeuce, Stultiloquentia, Spuffyduds, and Destroythemeek, for all the virtual write-ins.

Prince Nemolis consciously tightened and relaxed his shoulders, shifting in what he hoped was an approximation of his usual manner, dignified without being stiff. In his private thoughts, he could acknowledge that he was...not at all sure how any of this was ultimately going to go. 

He hadn’t revealed the whole of his plan to Sheveän, but even the hypotheticals he’d shared with her had made her opinion abundantly clear--she’d thought it utter foolishness to risk the-emperor-his-father’s displeasure for the sake of a despised and exiled half-brother.

Nemolis thought he had a reasonably objective view of Varenechibel IV--as much as any son could have of his father, or any imperial heir could have of his emperor. No matter how angry Varenechibal was, it was unlikely in the extreme that he’d disinherit Nemolis over it, and anything less---up to and including a long-term ambassadorial assignment in Barizhan or a season or two commanding troops on the steppes, to name a few of the more dire possibilities, Nemolis was confident he could weather with grace.

He had been tempted to simply requisition an airship and moor at Edonomee with no advance notice, just to see what would happen, but he’d finally decided, regretfully, that this was the wrong approach. For one thing, it would immediately alert the emperor that he was up to something---and while there was absolutely no point in trying to keep Varenechibel in the dark long term, he, Nemolis, intended to retain control over the manner of his finding out, if possible. And a great deal of his future planning would be shaped by what he found out. 

Which was why he had shorn himself of most overt signs of rank and taken only his personal guard and Captain Orchennis, the head of that guard, who was clearly dubious about this latest endeavor of his prince’s, but much too deeply loyal to actually say so. And now, here they sat, in the second best tavern in the market town of Calestho, the nearest settlement of any size to Edonomee.

He had initially planned to hire a courier to announce his coming, but in the end decided against it--he would proceed directly. He recalled enough of the affair that had led to Setheris Nelar’s exile to feel that it was not wise to give the man time to get up to mischief. 

His decision made, he had his and Captain Orchennis’s mounts saddled, and they headed out onto the main road. Before long, they were out of sight of human habitation, among the low grassy hills and hummocks of the moorlands. 

This land was truly isolated, much of it not suitable suitable country for farming--in the warmer months, shepherds and goatherds grazed their flocks in the hills, while autumn brought roving parties of hunters and winter largely brought no one at all.

The lodge of Edonomee itself had been built by one of the earlier Varavesenas, a man passionate about the value of solitary contemplation in nature and also about grouse hunting, both pursuits which had been out of fashion at court for quite some time.

The place would be a misery to a man like Setheris Nelar, so thoroughly a creature of city, court, and coffeehouse, addicted to bustle and intrigue. As for his half-brother, Maia--well, he had no idea what the boy might think of it. He had never even met Maia--only glimpsed him as a young child attending the funeral of his mother, the Empress Chenelo. But Nemolis could vividly recall that small, pointy, greyish face, set in tearless misery.

******

The lodge itself, when it finally appeared over the horizon, seemed...not neglected so much as weathered, greyed in some indefinable way that went beyond the color of the stone walls. Nemolis rapped firmly on the tall oak door with its iron knocker, wrought in the image of a lion, and waited. And waited, until at last the door was opened by a small, almost bird-like manservant. He studied them a moment, then bowed a very deep bow. “Dachosmer, how may I announce you to the household?”

Nemolis told the man who he was and watched his eyes widen, but all he said aloud was, “Be welcome to His Serenity’s manor of Edonomee, Your Highness. I beg your indulgence while I summon someone to tend to your mounts.”

"Not necessary,” said Captain Orchennis. “Simply give me a direction and my men and I can see to ourselves.” The manservant explained, and Orchennis strode off, leading both Nemolis’s mount and his own.

A girl wearing a very simple and plain, but neat, housemaid’s garb, gestured him into a small parlor. She looked down and stuttered, “I-I-I’ll have tea brought in directly, Y-your H-highness,” and bowed deeply before departing. 

As Nemolis entered, Setheris Nelar stood, as did the boy at his side. Nelar bowed to the precisely correct degree and length, no more and no less, but Nemolis thought he detected a faint uncertainty in the man’s balance as he straightened. The boy seemed inclined to keep his head dipped forever, until Nelar none-too-subtly trod on his foot and Maia Drazhar raised his head. 

What struck Nemolis immediately were the boy’s eyes, wide and clear, the stormy grey of the Drazhada, set to startling effect in the face that was otherwise so much his mother’s. His face was appropriately impassive, but he didn’t yet have full control over his ears--they were flattened back with clear anxiety. That was a bit surprising in a boy of twelve, Nemolis thought, but didn’t necessarily mean that anything was amiss with the child--they were so remote that whatever Nelar had seen fit to teach Maia about protocol, it would be far more theory than practice.

“Prince Nemolis, you and your guards are most welcome. Please feel free to join us at table and stay as long as you wish. We beg pardon for any lack in our hospitality caused by the welcome surprise of your visit.” The last was said in a tone that was not quite acidic enough to be openly offensive. 

“We thank you for your kindness, Osmer Nelar,” Nemolis replied, then turned his attention to Maia. “Little brother, perhaps you and I could get to know one another in a less formal setting--what say you to a ride out on the moor?” 

To his surprise, Maia’s grayish face turned mauve with embarrassment. “Your highness,” he answered formally, “we do not know how to ride."

Nemolis was shocked for a moment--a young archduke, even one in relegation, not taught how to ride? Then he realized he might have stumbled into a sensitive matter--perhaps the Emperor had deemed Nelar a flight risk and thus forbidden the manor to keep horses? Or had Nelar simply not bothered to provide Maia the mount due his station? In either case, he hardly wished to discomfit the child, and so changed the subject quickly. 

“Ah well, perhaps a walk on the moor, then? It seems pleasant enough country this time of year, though I’ve been given to understand it can become quite dreary in wintertime.” 

“I-We would be pleased to join you,” Maia responded softly, and he did, indeed, look pleased. “Er, perhaps we might ask our groundskeeper, Haru, to join us. Because of the quicksand, Your Highness. And the marsh vipers, though it’s late in the year for those. 

“We beg your pardon for a moment,” Nelar interjected, using the plural, “as we did not dress in anticipation of ventures upon the moors.” 

“Osmer Nelar, I hardly wish to monopolize your time, after having burst in upon your household so suddenly. I will be most pleased to take Maia out for what I hope will be a diverting afternoon, and leave you to your preparations.” 

Two bright red spots of fury appeared on Nelar’s pale cheeks, but his court manners were such that he would not allow himself to be caught in an act of open rudeness toward a prince. “Very well,” he said. 

“Come, cousin,” he said to Maia, “thou must not keep the heir thy brother waiting overlong.” 

******

Maia met him in the yard, finally separated from the suffocating presence of Nelar, and Haru materialized from the stables. As they walked out, Captain Orchennis joined them. The rest of the guard had been left to tend to their mounts and gear, but Orchennis insisted on accompanying them for safety’s sake. “I’ll stay well back, if it’s privacy you want, your highness.” 

“I have nothing to say that couldn’t be said in front of you, but my youngest brother seems hardly able to raise his voice above a whisper, and I fear you might frighten the words out of him altogether, were you to lurk in your usual position right behind him.” 

“Very well, your highness.” 

They strode out onto the moor in silence, following Haru’s careful scouting; the only sounds the swish of wind in the grasses, and occasional calls of birds, and once, the upward-beating flutter of a grouse.

Nemolis pondered various gambits to open the conversation, but to his surprise, Maia did so for him.

“Did you....know my mother? When she was at court, I mean.”

“Only a little,” he answered honestly. “I was...much occupied with setting up my own household at the time. I met her, oh, two or three times at most.” 

Maia’s eyes held barely concealed disappointment, so Nemolis racked his brain for some fragment of memory he might be able to share. “She was young--younger than I--and shy, and seemed, I think, rather overwhelmed by the Untheleneise Court, despite having grown up in the Barazheise Court...She liked the gardens of the Alcethmeret though; she spoke to me briefly of how much she enjoyed walking in them, and her smile was a true one, not the polite court smile.”

Maia smiled too, and that smile seemed very like what Nemolis remembered of Chenelo. “That seems like her. She loved the gardens at Isvaroe and helped to tend them herself, before she became too sick.” His smile faded. 

It was stating the obvious, but Nemolis felt he had to extend some gesture. “You loved her very much,” he stated quietly. 

“Yes,” said Maia simply, “I still think of her every day.” 

They walked in silence for a while longer, but it was a different silence. Maia seemed to be trying to contain something, until finally it burst out of him like a firework. 

“Why have you come all this way? And why now? When neither you nor my other brothers took a moment to speak to me, when I was alone at the court?” After that outburst, Maia looked away. “Forgive us, Your Highness, that was rude.”

“It is a fair enough question, brother, and I do not reproach thee for it.” Nemolis smiled a little. “My son Idra turned eight this year; he and his sisters are among the great joys of my life. And I thought of thee at that age; and I was minded to come and meet thee for myself, and see how thou didst.” 

“Oh,” Maia said, and seemed not to know what else to add. 

The walk was blessedly free of encounters with either marsh vipers or quicksand, and as they returned back toward the house, Nemolis said, “Thou canst not learn the saddle in a day, but wouldst thou like to be introduced to my gelding, Thunder? Despite his name and size, he is really a gentle creature, very calm.”

“I’d like that,” Maia replied. 

They entered the stables and found Thunder’s stall, Maia following close behind him. He turned to give Maia instruction on how best to approach the horse, and he must have moved a hand, for Maia flinched away. From him, not from the horse.

Nemolis had seen that reaction from badly-handled dogs, on the hunt. He felt a towering fury, and took a deep breath--his anger would help no one, least of all Maia, who was trying to erase any trace of that reaction. 

“Forgive me, Y-y-your Highness,” Maia gasped out, “I was only startled.”

Nemolis didn’t intend to let this charade go on. “Does he hit thee?” he asked, “Nelar?”

Maia shook his head. _Likely he fears to tell me aught_ , Nemolis thought. _Perhaps a different manner will induce him to speak._

He gestured Maia out of the stall, then knelt before him and took Maia’s hands. “Brother,” he said, “on thy honor as the son of Empress Chenelo, canst thou say that thy cousin has never raised a hand to thee in anger?” 

Maia looked away. “I--I cannot.”

“This must stop--I won't allow it.” Nemolis said firmly, thinking of his own children. 

“But--” Maia started, then stopped. 

“Go on,” Nemolis almost whispered. 

“But--if thou sayst aught to him, brother, he wilt know! Wilt know I told, and-and thou art going to go away, and I will be left here--with him!” Maia’s ears were flat and he looked close to tears. 

Nemolis’ mind raced; the child was _right_ , curse it, and it was useless to say that no one should dare treat a child of the Emperor so. The Emperor had shown no interest before; Maia had no reason to believe he would care now. And greatly though he wished to, he could not simply steal Maia away at that moment. Some level of protocol had to be observed. 

“Don’t worry, brother,” he murmured, and patted Maya’s hand, “There is a good deal else upon which I can fault Nelar, when I speak to him; I need not touch on this matter at all. Be patient, and I will find a way to bring thee to a better situation. In the meantime, thou mayst write me, as well as to thy cousin Idra. As I don’t doubt that Nelar will insist on reading the letters, perhaps we could choose some phrase, whereby thou couldst let me know if thou are truly in need.” 

‘“The grouse are flocking’, perhaps?” Maia suggested. “Cousin Setheris finds all talk of grouse exceedingly dull.”

“That will certainly do.” And so the pact was made between them. 

Dinner was humble fare, yet tasty and well-prepared, and he, Maia, and Nelar passed an hour in polite and unexceptionable conversation. After Maia had been sent off to bed, Nemolis gestured in the direction of the sitting room. 

“Let us have a drink together, you and I.” Nemolis murmured. 

“Of course, Your Highness,” Nelar replied. He had cups and a decanter ready to hand, and poured a generous measure of metheglin for each of them. His hand trembled a little. 

The same small, bird-like serving man came in to build up the fire, then left. _Had they only the one in attendence?_ Nemolis wondered. He suspected the man might still be within earshot. Ah well, at this point it mattered little to him if he was overheard. 

“To speak frankly, your management of this estate, and of my cousin’s education, leave much to be desired, Nelar. Give me one good reason I should not speak ill of you to the Emperor, our Father.”

“And you think you could do better, my prince? At a place on the arse-end of nowhere, on the pittance His Serenity the Emperor thinks adequate to send us? And the boy is not much better than a half-wit! This is what we have to work with!” The metheglin flushed his face, and his voice rose. “What could you do to us that is worse than this?”

“Petition the Emperor for your head, for one. Where would your hopes of returning to the city and your lovely wife be then?”

Nelar startled a little. 

“What? You thought I knew naught of your scheming? Truly, you think every man a fool other than yourself, and you the greatest fool of all for managing to get yourself relegated here. Which, I might add, does not lead me to trust your estimate of my brother’s capacities or his character. If the stipend the Emperor-my-father sends is truly so paltry, I am willing to supplement it--on the condition that it is used to further Maia’s education. Purchase some new books for the library, when the courier comes through, and for Csaivo’s sake, send away for some new clothes! I have encouraged Maia to correspond with myself and my son Idra, and you are on no account to forbid him. I will be in touch, before too long.”

“I suppose I have no choice in the matter,” muttered Nelar. 

“You understand me very well, cousin,” Nemolis agreed. Shortly thereafter, he retired to bed. He half-wondered if the mattress in the guest bedroom of Edonomee had been replaced since the days of the Varavesana who’d built the place, and hoped spitefully that Nelar had passed a similarly uncomfortable night. 

The next morning after breakfast, he bid Maia farewell, with a promise to write. 

As he watched the riders disappear over the horizon, Maia sternly told himself not to hope too much. Nemolis’s words might be empty promises that would come to nothing; perhaps he might be unable to sway the will of the Emperor that kept him here. But no one had ever actually bothered to promise Maia anything before, so he couldn’t help hoping, just a little.


End file.
